


Gross

by orphan_account



Category: Boyfriend to Death (Visual Novel)
Genre: Abduction, Canon-Typical Violence, Emetophilia, It was like, Kidnapping, Menstruation, Menstruation Kink, Other, Reader-Insert, Tried to be gender neutral beyond that, Urolagnia, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, i didn't plan half of these, once the ball got rolling it couldn't be stopped, oooh boy, written from the perspective of a reader who has a vagina
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-15
Updated: 2016-07-15
Packaged: 2018-07-24 02:08:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,281
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7489224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i> ~ His free hand went between your legs and rubbed at the front of your shorts.</i><br/><i> He stopped, surprised, and looked up at you. You were looking off to the side, mortified. He laughed, and teased you, "Wow~ You're already wet, just from this?" ~ <i></i></i><br/>Strade kidnaps the Player, and they have more to worry about than just a sadistic captor.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Gross

**Author's Note:**

> sorry :')

You awoke with a start, heart pounding in your chest.

It was dark, so very dark, all around you, and you felt like your head was going to split apart. What was going on? The last thing you remembered, you were at a bar...

Gritting your teeth, you lifted your head- despite the pounding headache- and tried to peer at the dim room surrounding you. It was nowhere that you recognized; it looked like a storeroom, maybe a cellar, but how did you end up here?

Leaning forward, you tried to push yourself to your feet, but you became sickeningly aware that your hands were tied behind your back. Jerking forward again, in a panic, you also realized that you were bound by your hands to a metal bar, or support beam.

Whatever it was, despite your desperate struggle to get away, it wasn't budging.

As you stopped squirming, sitting stock still, your eyes wide and your breathing labored, you suddenly recalled with a shock what had happened to you.

Having had a lousy day, you went to a bar.

It was a place you'd never been before, and despite your nervousness, you had managed to hit it off with a man who had approached you.

You had excused yourself and gone to the bathroom, and while you were there, someone had come in behind you.

Startled, you jumped and let out a short yelp, as the person lunged at you and... slammed your head into the counter.

Ouch. That explained the headache.

You made a face in lieu of being able to rub your temple. It didn't feel like you had a cut or anything, but there was definitely a knot.

But, wait. The person who had given you the bump, it was, it was Strade, wasn't it?

The man you were chatting with, who seemed so pleasant and friendly. It couldn't have been him- right?- but you had a blurry image of him being the one who attacked you.

Maybe you were just mixing things up in your mind; there's no way he would have done that, he was too... nice. It upset you to even think a guy like that had. Had kidnapped you.

That must have been what happened, even if Strade wasn't the culprit.

Your breathing quickened and your shoulders shook.

Oh God.

Someone had abducted you.

This was. This wasn't something that was supposed to happen to you.

This was something that happened on TV shows and late night news, where you would would 'ah' sympathetically while tearful families begged for their lost ones to be found.

This wasn't something that you ever thought about; that you ever entertained the notion of happening to you.

 

But it was.

 

You took a sharp, deep breath and held back the tears that were burning the back of your eyes.

Oh God.

 

You brought your knees up to your chest, trying to find some kind of comfort, and with a jolt, found out that something else was wrong.

Fuck.

This was not good.

Despite everything, you squared your shoulders, and, after taking a few steady-ish breaths, screamed Strade's name.

You leaned your back on the bar behind you and called once more, your voice becoming both stronger and also more desperate.

 

Part of you hoped that maybe it wasn't Strade who kidnapped you, and even tinier, stupid part of you thought that he would hear you, and come to your rescue.

Both of those hopes were dashed against the concrete floor as you heard the door open, and a familiar cheery gait come down a flight of stairs. You had never heard Strade hum, but the person currently doing so sounded an awful lot like what you imagined he would.

They were still out of sight, but you could tell, by the way they took the stairs, they were both excited and relaxed.

You tried to deny it as best you could, but finally, when the man stopped right in front of you, and the truth was literally staring you in the face, you were forced to realize that it was indeed Strade who had brought you here.

 

He was grinning- you had initially found his smile charming, but there was a certain sinister edge to it now- and looking you over. You shifted, suddenly feeling very scared and vulnerable.

His eyes were wide, manic, almost, and he tilted his head as he asked, in his strange accent, "You called?"

There was a good amount of teasing in his voice, as you had kept screaming for him for a good few minutes, and while you wanted to duck your head and cower, there were more pressing issues.

 

Breathing in through your nose to calm yourself, you glanced, hesitantly, up at him, and replied, voice quavering, "I, uh, what's... What's going on?" Hunching your shoulders and lifting your head, you continued, "Where... Are we?"

Strade chuckled, and shrugged his shoulders in a way that made you think he was deliberately mocking you, before answering. "We're at my house, Dummchen!" He spread an arm wide at this, still keeping that same friendly grin on his face.

 

Frowning at him- he didn't seem to be taking this as serious as he should- you took another look around the room. Strade had turned the light on when he came down, but you had been too preoccupied with him to finally absorb your surroundings.

Your heart stopped cold.

There was a tablesaw. There were various tools lying on a countertop. There were a multitude of bloodstains- all over, even some in the area you were sitting at. God, was that a camera in the corner?!

All these 'clues' came together to form a picture in your mind, and your back slammed against the pole as your body reacted primally to the revelation.

"No," you murmured, voice trembling as hard as your body was. "NnnooOooh nooo no no no..."

Your eyes were impossibly wide as tears leaked out and ran down your cheeks. You could feel yourself coming apart at the seams, and, very distantly yet very distinctly, you could hear Strade laughing.

Pleas stumbled out of your lips as Strade crouched down in front of you. He reached out a hand- you flinched- and rested it on your head.

He started rubbing soothing circles with his thumb, and even if he wasn't the source of your terror, the fact that he was essentially grinding the spot that he had previously slammed into a sink was not helping. At all. (You felt for sure he did it on purpose.)

You did quiet down, though, out of sheer fear and cowardice. Having him so close to you had killed whatever nerve you had left.

 

Strade grinned, and stared straight at your face as your gaze rolled desperately around, making eye contact with him briefly and then, just as quick, shooting away. He started talking to you, cooing in either English or German or both, but you were beyond listening at this point.

He kept this false comfort up for a minute or two, you couldn't tell, but it seemed that he grew impatient. You were still shaking and darting your gaze around, but you immediately froze when his other hand, which had been idly resting by his knee, went to his hip and returned with a knife.

Your chest constricted with fear, and you found your gaze locked onto his knife. It seemed this had also drew you back to reality, as you could, unfortunately, make out what he was saying.

 

"You calmed down yet?" He paused, as if waiting for an answer. When you didn't give one, he ventured further, asking, "You want something to eat? Drink? ....Water? Anything?" You weren't really able to reply, so you just stared at him, dumbly, as his eyebrows furrowed and his grin faltered. Somehow, you didn't think you were reacting how he wanted you to.

He finally withdrew the hand feeling up your forehead, and sat back on his haunches. He looked you over once more, before speaking. His voice was a few shades less upbeat than before.

"Alright, buddy, here's what's gonna go down." As he articulated, he waved the knife around, carelessly. You followed it with your eyes, and every time it moved back and forth, you felt your heart rate increase. Your mouth and throat were dry, and your blood pounded in your head. So zeroed in on the knife were you, that you almost missed his next words.

"So, so, so... I'm going to hurt you." He said it so plainly and simply, as if commenting on the weather, that you didn't register what the words meant at first. Once your brain caught back up, however, you let a whimper, and dug your knees into your stomach. What, what, what-

Strade reached out, quick but almost thoughtlessly, and grabbed your ankle. You almost screamed as he brought his knife to your calf and started tracing patterns onto your skin. He hadn't actually broken the skin yet, but you could see the intentions in his eyes. Smell the excitement oozing off of him. His other hand, which had been stroking your ankle, crawled further up your leg- pausing to caress the back of your knee ("Are you ticklish?" he asked, smirking as your leg trembled with fear)- until he placed it, securely, on your thigh. The knife followed close by, warning you to stay still.

Strade hummed and fingered the hem of your shorts. Then, without much effort at all, slid the knife up the outside of them and your underwear and cut the seams. It nicked you, and you jumped, as he chuckled darkly and apologized. He moved the knife to your other side, obviously intending to repeat the process.

You frantically tried to keep your crotch covered with your other leg, especially trying to hide it from the knife. You were terrified what someone trying to hurt you might think of doing...

"Hey, hey, hey, don't worry, Liebchen~ I'll be g-e-ntle~" Strade sing-songed, as the other seam on your shorts split. He grabbed your leg- with the hand holding the knife, you were painfully aware of, and forced it to the side. His free hand went between your legs and rubbed at the front of your shorts.

He stopped, surprised, and looked up at you. You were looking off to the side, mortified. He laughed, and teased you, "Wow~ You're already wet, just from this?"

Face burning, still not looking at him, you replied, quietly, "It's not... I'm just..." Taking a shaky breath, and looking at him through the corner of your eyes, you finished, "On my period."

Strade blinked. And then, several emotions crossed over his face; the revulsion that most men had when hearing about anything relating to the menstrual cycle, rage- most likely this was a surprise to him, and then, sickening curiosity.

You ducked your head down and tried to close your legs again. Back whenever Strade had first kidnapped you, you had gone to the bathroom to change your tampon. You were on your first day, so you had a heavy flow. And now, however long later, you still had the same tampon inserted, and had started leaking blood into your shorts.

You had brought attention to yourself when you woke up, because you needed to remove your tampon. It wasn't good for you to sit with old blood inside of you, and Toxic Shock was something you constantly worried about.

While you were utterly embarrassed and sickened, you knew that you needed to convince him to let you go to the bathroom, or let you take it out.

You gathered your composure as best you could, and turned to look Strade face on. He was examining his fingertips, looking at the faint stamps of blood on them. Speaking as forcefully as you could muster, which was not saying much, you told him, "Strade, I need to go the bathroom."

He briefly looked up from his fingers before returning his gaze to the blood, and dismissively told you, "Hmmm, okay, just go ahead and go."

You felt a wave of nausea at the suggestion- clearly Strade didn't care, and had probably made people soil themselves before- but this wasn't just... letting go.

You shook your head and explained to him, "No, no, I need to take my tampon out." That got his attention, and he stared at you with an unreadable look in his eyes. You shimmied your hands behind you and looked pleadingly back at him, wheedling out, "At least untie me, I just need to remove it, please." It was so degrading, to even have to ask something like this, but it had to be done.

"Why?" You were stunned to hear a hint of confusion in his voice, and you wondered if he was fucking with you or simply had never bothered to learn much about menstruation.

Your face felt impossibly hot, and your stomach churned. "I- I just- It's... full..." You answered, lamely. You didn't really want to explain to him that it could literally poison and kill you.

Strade seemed to be contemplating this, and scratched his beard with his knife. Finally seeming to reach a conclusion, the look in his eyes changed to something predatory.             

He looked back down at your crotch, and then up at your eyes, grinning widely. You felt like you were going to throw up. He roughly grabbed the front of your shorts, and pulled both them and your underwear clean off. The cuts he made earlier had left them only loosely resting against your skin. He forced your legs open, again, but this time resting his hand with the knife handle horizontally on your thigh. If you tried to close your legs again, you would cause him to stab yourself.

Great.

 

He shuddered a sigh and said to you, "I'll help you out, buddy." The knife handle ground into your thigh. "aahh~ Can't- Can't leave a Freund in need~"

His other hand explored around your vagina, rubbing briefly at your clit before stroking down your labia. You shook with fear and your body's natural reactions, and desperately kept your legs far apart. He fingered the string of your tampon, tugging experimentally. You glanced down and noted that, of course, the string had been soaked through as well.

 

You clenched your eyes shut and leaned your head back as poked and prodded at your entrance. He called for your attention, and you hesitantly squinted at him. He was sitting there, on one knee now, looking at you innocently as his hand was still violating you while the other constantly threatened you with a knife.

Damn... He was a good actor.

"Sooo~ Should I do this fast, or slow?"

His hand returned the string and made it go around in a circle. It was incredibly uncomfortable.

"Schnell, oder langsam?”

 

You hesitated. If you told him slow, he might draw it out, and not even end up removing it. On the other hand, if he ripped it out you, especially from a wrong angle, it could seriously hurt.

Unsurely, you told him to try to go slow.

He hummed and replied with a cheery, "Okay~" as he started pulling.

 

It was agonizing.

God, you were going to be sick. The smell was heavy and horrendous. You couldn't stand it, but Strade seemed to be inhaling it deeply.

And he didn't pull the tampon out straight, of course, and instead tried different angles. At one point, the string cut into your insides, and your legs swung closed, but jerked open as you stabbed yourself. Strade looked up from his 'project' up at you and smirked, as you cried out in pain. He let go of the string in favor of running his finger over the wound he had technically made you give yourself.

You jumped as his head suddenly joined his hand near the stab. (At least he moved the knife away...) "Mmm~" You winced as his fingers pulled your skin apart and his tongue flicked over the raw layer, teasing you. "So-o-orry, Schatzi~”

Not only was he messing with your wound, but he had left your tampon near the entrance of your vagina, right where it was most painfully situated. Your knees shook as you desperately tried to shift into a more comfortable position.

Strade, of course, didn't let you, and instead of going back the string, his fingers jammed into you. You yowled as his fingers pushed the tampon back into you, and started probing around. Above you, Strade shifted, and you had to purposefully look away from the excited look he had on his face. He grappled for the tampon, and started to pull both his fingers and it out of your vagina. You weren't aroused, far from it, so you kept constricting painfully around the mass inside you.

Finally, thank God, he removed them both, and you had a second to breathe as he examined his bloody prize.

Sobbing and shaking, half-drunk on fear and relief, you dimly figured you ought to thank him, as his particular crazy seemed to thrive on being talked to.

You were about to nervously express your gratitude to him, when he raised your tampon to his mouth.

 

You looked on in horror and disgust as he slid it past his lips. Of course, you had plenty of experience dealing with menstrual blood- touching it, cleaning it up- but to actually ingest it?

You thought it could get any more revolting, but then, his jawed moved, and blood started to seep out of his mouth and down his chin.

That seemed to be the last straw for your stomach, and you retched, throwing up inside your mouth. Luckily, it was all liquid, as the last thing you ate had been hours ago (just how long?), so the only thing your stomach had it in was beer and acid.

You tried to swallow it back down, before Strade noticed, but some of the bile leaked out of your mouth, and, in a distorted mirror of your captor, dripped down your chin.

Strade, having finished whatever he had been doing with the tampon, pulled it out of his mouth by the string he left dangling, and tossed it to the side.

He grabbed your chin, and you thought he was going to wipe the sick off, but, instead, he brought his mouth there and started to lap it off. Your body rejected his advances, but he just surrounded you and pressed his lips against yours.

You could taste your blood in his mouth, familiar but entirely unpleasant and horrid. The taste of blood mixed with the bile on your tongue, and you had to fight down your gag reflex as Strade's tongue roamed all over the inside of your mouth.

While you wouldn't have been surprised if it turned out Strade was into vomit as well, you didn't want to die after surviving this far only to be stabbed for puking in his mouth.

You jumped and squealed as his fingers returned to your sore vagina, instantly inserting themselves deep within you. You moaned in pain and unwanted pleasure as he flexed and curled his fingers inside of you. He didn't have a rhythm, just a random movement as he explored your most sensitive areas.

He retracted his fingers, and you almost felt foolishly relieved, until he jammed those fingers into your mouth. He laughed as you gagged, more liquid rising in your throat, and smeared blood all over your lips and tongue. He traced your teeth with his blunt nails and you wished you had the courage to bite him.

Eventually, he returned his fingers to your crotch, and slipped his tongue back to taste the new bile and blood on yours.

 

Strade was moaning and groaning in your mouth, spitting and purring in a mixture of English and German. The dude was really worked up, and you felt a growing sense of dread as you heard him fumbling with his belt. That sense of fear only heightened as he let out a loud groan of relief, and you heard the clatter of his knife as he set it aside.

Distracted, you entertained a fleeting thought about the knife, before feeling something larger than his fingers press up against you.

 

It seemed like only the natural progression of things- for being abducted by a sadistic deviant- but you were still shocked as he prepared himself to fuck you.

You whimpered and cried and pleaded with him, trying anything you could think of to dissuade him. (Vaguely, stupidly, you worried about him not using a condom.) It only seemed to make him harder though, and he licked his lips- he actually did that- before thrusting himself completely into you, slamming your back into the metal pole.

 

You saw white for a moment and let out a silent scream. Strade was not a small man, and your body had not planned on having sex. You were almost lucky that you were on your period and Strade had been shoving his fingers in you- it made things a fraction easier to deal with.

Strade seemed to think that using blood as lubricant was an excellent idea, and you threw your head back as he immediately started to slam his hips against yours. Again, he didn't seem to have any rhyme or reason for how he did things-some thrusts he pulled himself almost all the way out, others were fast and short, but each one of them hurt.

 

Tears fell down your cheeks, and as much as you wanted to close your eyes and block it all out, your eyes stared, wildly, at the ceiling above you. You could feel blood dripping down your wrists from you had rubbed them raw shifting around, blood dripping down your chin where Strade had brought it into your mouth, and blood dripping down your thighs from your wound and where Strade was smashing into, sloshing and spurting both period blood and most likely blood from tearing you on the inside.

You couldn't tell, everything hurt too much, but it wouldn't surprise you if Strade had ripped you open entirely.

 

Within that moment- spread open, violated, blood smeared and sprayed all over your body- you felt something inside you just. Slip away.

It was both an emotional feeling, and a physical, as you felt warm piss gush from within you, around Strade's dick until it settled underneath you in puddle, mixing with the blood.

 

Rather than disgusting Strade, he seemed to enjoy it, and quickly, impossibly sped up his pace, until he was buried as deep within you as he could, moaning as he came inside you.

You could feel it coat your insides, and you finally closed your eyes.

 

Oh well.

At least it was very unlikely that you'd get pregnant from this.

 

Strade panted and laughed, patting you on the shoulder. "Wh-whoa there, bud, wasn't sure you had it in you." Still inside you, he ran a finger around your entrance, playing with the different liquids that had smeared on you. "Lustig~"

 

Seemingly satisfied, Strade finally pulled out of you, releasing a gush of liquids onto the ground. He leaned backed and seemed to admire the mess, the state he had put you in. You hardly cared anymore.

 

He tucked his dick away- you noticed that he had gotten stains from you all over his clothes- and wiped his hand on your shirt. Despite your newfound apathy, you felt a slight twinge of annoyance at that.

As he rose, probably to leave, you guessed, you croaked out a flat, "Thanks for your help, Strade."

He paused, grin frozen in place, and you couldn't help but wonder if the both of you were surprised you said that.

There were a few tense moments, but then, Strade started snickering. You stared at him. He quickly moved onto chuckles, then chortles, and soon, he had slipped back onto ground, laughing in an awful way.

"D-du.." He sputtered. "You've got -snrk- an odd sense of humor." You shrugged as he struggled to collect himself.

"A~aaaahhh~" he leaned closer to you. "You're an interesting one."

 

He pressed his hand over your abused crotch.

You dully thought 'what could he do now' (the more sensible part of you thought about that knife), but still felt a glimmer of surprise as he rubbed your clit.

You were waiting for the pain to come, for him to pinch you or claw, just to hurt you, but he kept up his nonsense pace. He dipped his fingers into your vagina, wet them with your blood (and piss and his semen), and used that to get you off.

You were surprised enough that, even if you weren't trying to seem empty and emotionless, you didn't see the need to fight back.

He pressed his mouth against your neck and began to bite and suck at it. You bit your lip.

Despite everything, you still felt arousal creeping forward.

You began to moan, and bucked your hips into his hands. You felt him smirk into your neck, and he huskily murmured, "Prima~"

It took an embarrassingly short time for him to get you off (hey, you were sensitive and spent, it wasn't really a fair game), and as you came you gasped his name.

 

He leaned back, still smiling, but, rather than looking hungry, his eyes seemed content.

He reached over, wiped his hand on your shirt, patted the bump on your head, and took his leave.

As he reached the top of the stairs, he called down to you, "Komischer Süße~"

And left you in the dark.

**Author's Note:**

> I took German for a few years but I was still garbage at it. Apologies if the mixture of words I remembered and pulled from the Internet aren't the best suited/correct. 
> 
> Terms Used:  
> Dummchen- Silly  
> Liebchen- Sweetheart  
> Freund- Friend  
> Schnell oder langsam- obvi, but Fast or slow  
> Schatzi- Sweetie  
> Lustig- Fun  
> Prima- Cute  
> Komischer- Funny/weird  
> Süße- Cutie


End file.
